There is an old, old song
Tones
Understood before the world came to be
Langue
Chanson
It is cognizance of Thee
How subtle is consciousness
Sometimes its levels are concrete and we remain at one place at one time
Other times, one innocent step
Plunges the soul through a maze of perceptions
Exquisitely related by some oblique thread.
I sing Thee
When I am alone and pensive
When my soul tarries along old pathways
You appear
I dance for you
Raindancing
Or sitting quietly by the River as it sings in many tongues
River of life
Without it, I am just dust
Within me it is life
Without me it is life
Holy Wine
Seamless robe so finely wrought
Chanson of God
Here in the cornfield I wander
Reaching up to your gray beard in the sky
Dancing
A gypsy dancing in a cornfield
For her Sweet Water Man
I can always tell it is you
Because your voice is so quiet on the wire
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